


2003 (I Choose You)

by Ortega



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Lesbian AU, Repressed Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortega/pseuds/Ortega
Summary: Vanessa Mateo and Monique Heart start school in the year 2003. They love girlbands, superheroes and football, and they’re best friends forever. At least, that’s the plan.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, Monique Heart/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	2003 (I Choose You)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a few trigger warnings for this, so please read them before you start!
> 
> trigger warning: implied child neglect, implied drug use, internalised homophobia, d slur, bereavement
> 
> (i promise this fic isn't as depressing as it sounds...)

The room smells of squeaky floors and play-dough. It’s not like anything she’s ever smelt before, but it’s weirdly comforting. She’s sat on a carpet patterned with all kinds of fruit. It doesn’t have pineapple (which is her favourite), but that’s okay. The walls are covered in colourful paper, an arts-and-crafts rainbow explosion. There’s words too, different curly and spiky shapes making letters. She knows one has a “V” in it because that comes at the start of her name and it looks the same, but she can’t read any of the writing yet. Some of the kids in nursery could already read and one of the boys could even write stories. Vanessa couldn’t. She still can’t, but that’s okay. She can write her name and say please and thank you in two different languages and she knows how to count up to 12 (she gets stuck after that, but she’ll learn the rest).

She looks around the carpet. There’s a girl nearby her with two huge black plaits and huge brown eyes to match. Her skin is dark, and Vanessa feels comforted by the fact she’s not alone in sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the Snow Whites and Cinderellas and Auroras and their matching porcelain-skinned Disney princes that are sitting on the carpet with her. She scratches her head, feeling the bow her Mama tied in her hair shift. She hopes she’s not made a mess of it. Then Mama would be mad.

Her teacher’s been talking for a while now. It seems like she’s been talking for two hours. Maybe she _has_ been talking for two hours. Vanessa looks up at the clock, even though she doesn’t know how to tell the time yet so the information is less than useless to her. Bored, her eyes drift towards the girl she was looking at before. She’s wearing a white polo shirt and a red pinafore, and her white socks have got red bows on them. Vanessa is jealous. Her new jumper with the school logo is scratchy on the inside and she told her Mama that her leggings have a hole at the knee but they can’t get any new ones until she gets paid.

She bum-shuffles across to sit beside the girl, keeps her eyes trained on the teacher like a sniper as she leans in and whispers. “You look like a princess.”

The girl gives her a big smile. Vanessa knows she should say thank you, but maybe she doesn’t know as much about manners as Vanessa does. The girl whispers to her. “You look like Meg from Hercules.”

Vanessa smiles at her. She’s seen Hercules- it’s not her favourite, but she’s seen it- and Meg was her favourite character. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers. There’s a pause before she hisses to her again. “My name’s Monique, what’s yours?”

“I’m Vanessa,” she replies quietly. Vanessa picks at the hole in her leggings. It’s now about the size of a 1p coin. She knows about coins, at least. “Hey, you wanna play princesses at playtime?”

Monique nods excitedly, then whips her head around, scared. Vanessa looks up at her teacher. Her eyebrows are almost joined-up and there’s little lines on her forehead and her eyes have gone all hard. Vanessa knows this means she’s feeling cross.

“Vanessa, Monique! It’s rude to talk while someone else is talking. We don’t do that in school.”

Vanessa knows she should nod, but her stomach feels all fizzy and she finds herself frowning at her teacher instead. Monique says sorry. Maybe Vanessa should say sorry too. She decides she doesn’t want to.

“She’s been talking for about 5 hours. Maybe even 4 years,” Vanessa whispers to Monique again. Monique covers her mouth with her hands and lets out a tiny giggle. Their teacher gives them a suspicious look again and Monique shuffles away from Vanessa. Vanessa knows this means she doesn’t want to get into trouble. As soon as the teacher starts talking again, Vanessa hisses over to her.

“Monique!”

No answer. “Monique!”

Monique turns around a little bit to face her. “What?”

Vanessa cups her mouth with her hands so the girl can hear her. “Do you want to be best friends?”

Monique gives her another big smile. It makes Vanessa feel happy too. “Okay!”

She’s only been here for five hours, maybe even four years, and she’s already made a best friend. This school thing is easy.

***

It’s the two of them for life. Vanessa just knows it. They’re BFFAEAE (best friends forever and ever and ever). They get in trouble for chatting at school and their long-suffering teacher monitors them like a hawk. They’re banned from sitting near each other on the carpet because even when Vanessa tries to listen (even if it’s P.E., her favourite), she’ll think of something funny she just _has_ to share with Monique, and of course Monique is incapable of laughing quietly so she lets out a screech that completely disrupts the whole lesson and earns them both five minutes off their reward time. Vanessa doesn’t even mind losing reward time. They sit at the same table while everyone else plays and they write out the class rules, but Vanessa doesn’t mind because it’s the only time they’ll ever be allowed to sit together in class.

In the playground and after school it’s a different story. In Reception they play princesses and animal rescue with their threadbare, well-loved stuffed animals they sneak into school in their schoolbags. By Year 1 they’re popstars learning dance routines and designing album covers and falling out because Monique wants to call their double-act _The Strawberry Babies_ and Vanessa knows that obviously _The Starlights_ is a far superior name. In the Summer between Year 1 and Year 2 Vanessa’s Mama takes them to the cinema to see Fantastic Four and so for the whole of Year 2 they’re obsessed with superheroes, rolling around on the tarmac play-fighting with each other and getting bruised knees and scraped elbows and so far removed from the girly girls they were when they started school.

Vanessa knows everything about Monique and Monique knows everything about her, because that’s what it means to be best friends. Vanessa knows that Monique’s brother is eleven and goes to Big School and doesn’t play with her and slams his door and plays rap music that Monique can hear when she’s in her room with the door closed. Monique stays in the high flats with her brother and her gran.

“Do you have a Mama?” Vanessa remembers asking her one day in the playground, drawing in the dirt with sticks.

Monique’s voice had been quiet. She hadn’t looked up from drawing in the dirt. “Uh-huh.” 

“Where is she?”

Monique had shrugged, scribbled out the happy face she’d drawn. “Gran says she’s not allowed to see us any more.”

Vanessa could tell talking about her Mama had made Monique sad, so they don’t talk about that any more. Dads are off the table too. Vanessa doesn’t know hers and Monique doesn’t either. Vanessa doesn’t really need a Dad. Her Mama works in the supermarket and keeps their tiny pebbledashed council house in the estate spotlessly clean and is always on time to pick Vanessa up from school. She drags Vanessa kicking and screaming to mass every Sunday (Vanessa doesn’t like it because all the chanting scares her) and threatens her with _El Coco_ until she’s blue in the face. Monique goes to church too but hers sounds more fun- they laugh and clap and sing their hearts out. Monique sings the songs in school. Vanessa thinks she sounds like she could be in the Sugababes, not that she’s allowed to listen to the Sugababes.

Monique comes round to Vanessa’s house every few weeks or so. She lives close, and Monique is allowed to walk round on her own. Vanessa is jealous of that. She wishes her Mama would let her go places on her own. She tells her that one day and Mama howls with laughter, says she’s not allowed out on her own until she’s at least twenty-one. Vanessa thinks she’s joking. Thinks.

Vanessa gets excited when Monique visits because she knows her Mama will make an effort with the dinner. That’s unfair and disrespectful, she knows; Mama works hard to put food on the table, but her stuffed arepas are just better than rice and beans (and microwave meals if it’s near her pay day, which her Mama makes Vanessa promise she’ll never tell her Abuela they eat). They sit and eat with their bowls on their laps on the sofa in front of the TV and watch The Weakest Link. They sometimes get the questions right even though they’re only 7 and the people on the show are fully-grown adults. Monique is smart, though. Smarter than Vanessa. Vanessa thinks she’s smarter than their teacher. She’s the best at writing in the class and the best at maths too, and she can read any word at all.

Vanessa’s not that smart, but she knows Monique is, and she thinks she’s amazing.

It’s a grey-clouded day in July in the Summer of 2007 when Monique pulls up outside Vanessa’s house on a brand new bike. It’s blue and the seat is close to the ground and the spokes are all shiny. Vanessa runs out to see her, sticks her feet in between the bars of the rusty iron gate at the front of their house and swings back and forth as Monique talks.

“My brother got me it. Someone from the skatepark didn’t want it any more and it’s too small for him, so I guess it’s mine now,” Monique shrugs happily. There’s a smudge of dirt on her face that Vanessa knows her Mama will wipe off with a hot cloth if she sees it. “It’s kinda big for me but it works okay. You got a bike, right?”

Vanessa cringes, thinks about the pink bike with streamers at the handles that lives in their back garden and is probably crumbling away with rust. “I got one, but it ain’t as cool as yours.”

Monique smiles, satisfied with the compliment. “Well, go get it an’ we can go for a ride.”

Vanessa blushes and thinks of how many cool points she’s going to lose when she tells Monique that she has to ask her Mama first. Monique laughs at her good-humouredly, sticks her tongue out at her and calls her a baby. Monique turned 9 two months ago and Vanessa has to wait four more to catch up with her, so the comment stings but she pretends it doesn’t.

To her surprise and delight, her Mama lets her go out on her bike with Monique but only if they just go round the estate and they’re back before dinner time. Vanessa has never been able to follow the rules, though, so when Monique tells her she knows a place by the river under the bridge with a scrub of sand like it’s the seaside then Vanessa doesn’t hesitate to follow her. Vanessa wonders how Monique seems to know the city so well: she takes her on a journey through dark underpasses with yellow strip lights and bright scrawls of graffiti, narrow bridges above busy roads that Vanessa tries to pretend don’t scare her, secret little paths through the big park Vanessa goes to with her Mama sometimes. They pedal wildly and everything zooms by so quickly that even though she has no idea where she is, Vanessa feels safe. Any vaguely scary things they see (big dogs) are gone a second later, and Vanessa knows Monique would protect her if anything scary did happen. She would protect her too. That’s just what best friends do.

They arrive at the place Monique had been talking about. The brown stone bridge hangs high above them but Vanessa can still hear the cars on it pass by. They’re drowned out slightly by the babbling of the river, inky and cold and black with jaggy rocks underneath its surface. There’s huge clusters of boulders that they both have to climb over to get to the sand and they have to leave their bikes leaning against the wall on the path. It’s not a pretty place, but it’s still a little bit magical. It has the aura of adventure rather than beauty and they’d be more likely to discover pirates here than fairies, which is just how Vanessa likes it. Together they chuck stones into the water haphazardly, their hands growing more grubby by the minute and the dirt black under their nails.

“What’s that?” Vanessa narrows her eyes, reaches down to pick up the object she’s spotted. It’s embedded in the sand and she can’t really see what it is, but it looks like what she got her injections with at the doctor’s. Monique races over to see what she’s talking about and pushes her hand away quickly. Vanessa snaps. “Hey!”

“You’re not s'posed to touch that, it’s dangerous!” Monique cries, outraged. “What if you got stabbed?”

Vanessa snorts a laugh. “It’s ain’t a knife, M'nique, it’s only a stupid needle.“

Then, almost as if Monique’s warning had been a dare, Vanessa picks it out the sand with her thumb and index finger, holds it by the plastic tube. Monique’s face falls. "Stop it, ‘Ness, that’s creepy.”

Vanessa laughs, starts making the needle float about while making spooky noises. Monique takes a step back, her face all panicked. Vanessa gives a giggle. Monique’s acting like a scaredy-cat; she does that sometimes and it’s funny to wind her up. She usually takes it well but she’s growing more distressed than she usually does. Her eyes are all wide and Vanessa stops playing the moment she sees tears start welling up in them. She immediately drops the needle into the river and crosses over to her, her trainers leaving huge Nike ticks in the sand.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I’m sorry,” she mumbles. She regrets joking around now, and Monique is wiping at her eyes and sniffing and smearing dirt across her face.

“They used to be all ‘round my house before we lived with Gran,” she sniffs. Vanessa gets a churning feeling in her tummy. She doesn’t really know what that means, but it makes her feel frightened just hearing about it. She can’t imagine how frightened Monique felt seeing them for real. Slipping the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands, she gives Monique a hug, pats her back in the hope it’s comforting.

“I threw it in the river. Don’t worry. You don’t need to see it ever again,” Vanessa says. She’s not Monique, she doesn’t know what it’s like to have a sibling, but Monique is the closest thing to a sister she has and she wants to keep her safe. Monique is smiling at her when she steps out of the hug, and Vanessa feels relieved.

“An’ if it does come back we’ll just stab it before it can stab us first!” Monique jokes. It’s a silly joke but Vanessa still bursts out laughing.

“We’ll stab it with a stick!” she joins in, and soon the two girls are laughing and anything vaguely threatening has been forgotten about.

They end up cycling a lot that Summer, Monique showing Vanessa all sorts of hidden places all round the city. Vanessa never feels freer than when she’s racing around on dirt paths behind her best friend, and worries are a distant memory. Vanessa’s life is good and she has a lot of things to be thankful for but she knows she looks different and doesn’t fit in, she knows there’s a lot of things that the other kids have that she doesn’t, she knows that there are times when her Mama sits up at night time with her bills spilling out across the kitchen table and a calculator in her hand. Monique is a bright smile and a sense of adventure and she makes Vanessa feel happy.

They don’t go out on their bikes as much when they go back to school after the holidays. Year 4 flies by almost as quick as they used to cycle, as does Year 5. They don’t pretend as much in the playground anymore, preferring to run riot on the astroturf with the boys in their class and play football and get bruises on their shins from being tackled to within an inch of their life. Not much changes by Year 6; their last year of primary school when they should be responsible and conscientious and yet they’re still getting in trouble for giggling in class and playing pranks on the other kids and whispering swear words in Spanish (that one is Vanessa’s fault).

They’ve only got a month left of primary school and Vanessa’s allowed to walk home with Monique now as long as she keeps her phone on loud and texts her Mama to tell her if they’re stopping by the park or the snack van. Today is one of those days. They’re sat underneath the huge cherry blossom tree at the park; Vanessa wants to climb it but Monique’s saying that’s too babyish. They’re too old for that now, so they’re bluetoothing each other Tinchy Stryder and N-Dubz songs and blaring them at full volume out of their tinny phone speakers instead. Vanessa’s about to show Monique a parody somebody’s made of You’re Beautiful by James Blunt when Monique breaks the not-quite-silence.

“You gotta crush on anyone?”

Vanessa wrinkles her face up, snorts a laugh. “Ew! Nah. All the boys in our class are gross. I ain’t ever had a crush on any of ‘em.”

Monique gives a quiet laugh. “Me neither. They all use that Lynx Africa like it’s gonna cover up their B.O.”

Vanessa lets out a howl of laughter. She wasn’t lying to Monique; she doesn’t have a crush on anyone. If she thinks about it, she’s never really had a crush on any of the boys in her class. It’s just not something she thinks about. She cares more about her best friend than she’d ever care about any boy.

Their laughter dies down, and Vanessa gets a knot in her stomach. It happens every so often when she thinks about high school. Their class went up to see the school last week and it felt like such a terrifying maze of identical-looking corridors and crowds of kids so old they looked to be mini adults. Their teacher had told them to write down three friends they wanted to be in the same form class as, even though she said she couldn’t guarantee they’d get to stay together. Vanessa had written only one name on her form- _Monique Heart_ \- in her curly, barely-legible handwriting, the “i”s dotted with hearts. It’s been on her mind ever since, though. They’ve been together since Reception, Monique is all Vanessa knows. She wouldn’t begin to know how to make any other friends. She doesn’t _want_ any other friends.

“M’nique,” Vanessa says, and the other girl looks up. “What happens if we ain’t in the same form class next year?”

Monique gives a small, humoured laugh. “Well then we ain’t in the same form class.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes and shoves her. “Duh, idiot! I mean like…with us. We still gon’ be best friends?”

Monique laughs dismissively, shakes her head at her. “Now who’s being the idiot?”

“I’m serious!” Vanessa objects, annoyed that Monique’s still got her eyebrows raised at her like she’s a little kid. She’s going to be 12 in October; it’s not like she’s a baby. “What if you find other cool girls to hang out with? What if you get a new best friend? What am I gonna do?”

“You’re gonna do nothing, cuz that ain’t gonna happen,” Monique insists. Her face lights up as she gets an idea, jabs a finger against the tree trunk. “Okay. If I carve our initials into this tree, it’ll be like a promise. That we’re always gonna be best friends. I don’t want to hang out with cool girls. It’s fun just me an’ you.”

Vanessa smiles, her heart feeling all warm at the reassurance. Monique rummages around in her bag and produces her keys, starts stabbing at the bark of the tree relentlessly. Vanessa flinches a little, part of the reaction a residual memory from watching Pocahontas too much when she was really little; she used to believe that trees could feel things like humans. She shares the memory with Monique who doesn’t laugh at her, even though she probably has every right to.

“Well humans feel things an’ they get tattoos. So this is like a tattoo for a tree,” she shrugs. She’s chipped a big capital _M_ in the bumpy bark so far and is starting on an _H_.

“Hey, you think we should get matching tattoos when we’re grown ups?” Vanessa suggests, the idea exciting her. Monique frowns as she drags her key over the wood.

“Don’t they use needles for that?”

Vanessa regrets the idea as soon as Monique says it; she’d forgotten about her friend’s fear. She decides to commit to the idea. “They do, but they’re all clean an’ safe. An’ you wouldn’t have to be scared cuz I’d go with you.”

Monique nods as she starts on Vanessa’s name. “I never feel scared when I’m with you. Except when Mrs Del Rio yells at us.”

“She’s a big baby. She just hates us cuz we would be better teachers than her,” Vanessa shrugs. It’s true.

“Well, what tattoo are we gonna get? We need to decide now so we can start saving up for it,” Monique questions her. Vanessa scoffs.

“How much do you think a tattoo costs? It’s like ten pounds, God!”

It’s Monique’s turn to laugh. “Nah, it’s way more than that! My brother’s got one and his cost a hundred and fifty.”

Vanessa lets out an outraged screech. “That’s a damn lie! You’re gonna go to the bad fire if you keep tellin’ lies like that.”

“An’ you’re gonna go to the bad fire cuz you just cussed.”

“Well, see you down there,” Vanessa shrugs. She considers Monique’s question. “What about we get _BFFs_ in cool writing?”

Monique nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! With a heart maybe.”

“Yeah!” Vanessa agrees, excited about the prospect of their matching tattoos. She Googles “when can i get a tatoo” (spelling’s never been her strong suit) and lets out a groan at what she reads. “Ugh. We have to wait seven whole years.”

“You have to wait seven years, I only have to wait six!” Monique boasts, Vanessa sighing. She hates being one of the youngest in the class. She doesn’t have time to feel down for long though, as Monique shows her her handiwork with a flourish; _MH + VM_ , scratched into the tree forever. “There! Best friends forever.”

Vanessa feels as if her smile is going to break her face. It feels like her body is made of the sun’s rays. When Monique says that, high school doesn’t seem so scary any more.

“Where we gonna get these tattoos anyway?” Monique speaks again. Vanessa’s smile turns wicked and she can barely get her thoughts out without laughing.

“Imagine we get them on our _butt_!”

Vanessa thinks Monique’s Gran might be able to her them screeching with laughter from the top floor of her tower block.

***

Things change though, despite the promise they make. Monique doesn’t think either of them mean to break it but life gets in the way and God has other plans. It’s what she believes at least.

Though she doesn’t know what his plan was for separating her from her best friend. Monique cries for forty-five solid minutes when she receives the letter telling her what form class she’s in; she knows it’s different to Vanessa’s. Her Gran holds her tight and rocks her against her chest on the sofa while her brother yells at her to shut up and slams his bedroom door. Her Gran is full of comforting words: _you’re a strong girl, and you’ve been through worse in your life than this, and this isn’t going to change a single thing, hush now_. But it _is_ going to change things. When she’s with Vanessa, Monique feels like she can take on the world. She brings out her confident side when she feels shy, matches every shriek with a screech, takes her mind off the fact that she lives in a shoebox fourteen storeys high in the air where the elevator doesn’t work and the stairwell smells like piss. She can’t imagine starting high school without her. She doesn’t want to imagine it.

Monique batters out of the flat despite her Gran shouting after her, dashes down the stairs like her life depends on it. Her heart feels ready to give out when she reaches the lobby and bursts out into the open air but she still unchains her bike from the rack outside, pedals madly to Vanessa’s house. The bike is too small for her now and it’s uncomfortable to ride but it’s all she has to get her to the person that matters most. She reaches the house and Vanessa’s Mama lets her in, and Monique takes the stairs up to Vanessa’s bedroom two at a time where they hold each other tight and bundle up in Vanessa’s duvet and sob and sob and sob.

But looking back, Monique knows she’d been a little dramatic that day. Not being in the same form class as Vanessa really is not the end of the world. They walk there together on their first day and give each other a tight, nervous hug before they each head to their own form rooms. Monique pushes down on the doorhandle and anxiety fills her body as she walks in, freezes at the doorframe. There’s about twenty other kids already in the room and the whole scene is a bit chaotic. There are two boys chucking a ball to each other across the classroom, some girls with hair in high ponytails screeching and playing Katy Perry out of their phone speakers. Even though Monique has sat through countless interviews with social workers, child psychologists and police officers, this is one of the scariest experiences of her life.

“Hey. You wanna sit with us?”

Monique’s eyes fall on a table of girls with skin just like hers and hair to match. Monique instantly feels 80% more reassured; she’s never seen a classroom with a colour palette like this in her life. She and Vanessa had been the only two girls in their year at primary whose skin colour had deviated from the sea of pink or almost-translucent. There’s one girl who fits that mold at the table with the others, and Monique thinks it’s funny that she’s got pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes and still happens to be the odd one out.

The girls take her under their wing that first day, and the next, and the next. They’ve all gone to a different primary school from Monique and so are already closer than close, but they never make her feel like an outsider. Asia with the sleek, black hair that tumbles down her back has a sweet smile and explains all the in-jokes that Monique doesn’t understand. Antonia, the girl who invited Monique to sit with them, has an intimidating face and a skinny frame but a kind heart and always shares her snack and pens with her. Roberta- Bob- has a huge untameable afro and personality to match, and her cousin Monét isn’t dissimilar apart from the fact that her hair is wavy and caramel instead of jet black and curly. They bicker with each other and gossip about their teachers and make Monique laugh when she’s down. And Brianna is kind and caring and is always able to put a smile on Monique’s face.

Before long, it seems like Monique has made five new friends without even having to try. She wishes she could say she’s friends with Vanessa like she always used to be, but that would be lying.

Because Vanessa’s made friends too. They’re the girls Monique’s Gran always warned her about- _friends with the devil and they’ll lead you on a path straight to him_. Akeria and Silky make a reputation for themselves at high school within a week of the year beginning. They mess about in class, text during lessons, Silky starts fights with other girls in the corridors that her victims never have the balls to finish. Akeria flirts with the boys and the rumours say she’s had her first kiss already. They backchat teachers and keep cans of spray paint in their bags and walk along the train tracks to the depot after school to spray their wobbly initials on the side of freight trains.

But despite the fact they don’t hang out as much in person any more, that doesn’t diminish the light that Monique keeps burning in her heart for Vanessa. They bump into each other in corridors and chat excitedly in the five minutes they have between lessons, smile and wave at each other from across the lunch hall, and they still text each other and walk there and back from school together. Well, until just after the start of Year 8. Vanessa starts getting a lift from Akeria’s Mum in the mornings and hanging out at the shopping centre with her and Silky after school. It’s not her fault, and Monique supposes she’s no better- Monét lives on Monique’s route to school so the two of them start walking together instead, and after school the girls often go to the chicken shop in town and shovel down wings to make up for the disgusting school lunches.

By her second year of high school it’s almost like Monique has a new best friend.

But she doesn’t want to think like that, so she’s overjoyed when it gets to the start of Summer, just before the last term of their second year ends, and Vanessa’s texts change from general small-talk chit-chat to an invitation to have a sleepover at her house at the weekend. Monique feels embarrassing levels of excitement as she texts back confirming she’ll be there.

_M: Are your other friends gonna be there??_

_V: nah just me n u_

And it is just her and Vanessa. It’s a gorgeously sunny day and Vanessa’s Mama puts up a tent in the garden that they can camp out in. It’s nice to be back with her, talking and giggling and laughing about stupid stuff. Vanessa laughs uproariously as she tells Monique about Silky and Akeria’s latest exploits and Monique listens nervously, anxious just hearing about them.

“Do you join in when they do stuff like that?” Monique asks her, after a story about how Silky signed her name in the same Sharpie she does her eyebrows with on a toilet cubicle door and got detention. Vanessa shakes her head, smiles bashfully.

“Nah. I tell ‘em it’s good to keep someone onside in case we get into trouble. The teachers’ll let us away with more if they like one of us. ‘Least that’s my excuse,” she explains. Monique smiles, reassured.

“I didn’t think you were like them,” she says, relieved. She thinks Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, but she blinks and her expression has changed. Vanessa’s started wearing makeup and it suits her, even though her foundation is maybe a little off-colour. The mascara she’s swept onto her lashes opens up her eyes a little more and lets Monique see the twinkle that seems to be permanently shining in them.

She is so pretty, and Monique wishes she could look like her.

They talk as if nothing has changed over dinner, various barbecued meats grilled on a disposable barbecue Vanessa’s Mama got from her work. Monique has never had a barbecue before and she decides that burgers charred to within an inch of their lives are the best thing she’s ever eaten. They make smores from chocolate digestives and marshmallows for dessert and Monique howls with laughter as the chocolate and marshmallow melt down half Vanessa’s hand and she licks it off as her Mama rolls her eyes, goes to find her a hot cloth and mutters in Spanish that Monique doesn’t understand but knows is long-suffering. She has almost forgotten the way Vanessa can make her belly laugh just by acting the fool. Monique has spent two whole years not even knowing how much she’s missed her friend, too distracted by her new ones.

When it’s time to go to sleep they both cosy up under Vanessa’s duvet that’s been dragged outside and a sleeping bag each under that. Every available pillow and cushion in the house has been utilised in lieu of a blow-up mattress but the set-up is still comfortable, even though it’s pitch-black both in the tent and outside. It might be the end of June but it’s still cold once the sun goes down, and Vanessa has shuffled up near to Monique in a bid to try and keep warm. Vanessa being so close makes Monique feel warm on the inside as well as the outside.

“Hey, you know that rumour about Akeria kissing Dean from Year 9?” Monique pipes up, interested. “Is that true?”

Vanessa rolls onto her tummy to face Monique, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief even in the dark. It makes Monique’s stomach do a flip. “Yeah. They did it at the food court after school one day. You wanna know what else?”

Vanessa’s face is so full of glee that Monique can’t help but nod in anticipation. She’s almost in fits of laughter as she tries to get the secret out. “He tried to get her to touch his…you know!”

Monique lets out a screech that is equal parts horrified and amused as Vanessa dissolves into giggles too. “GROSS! Did she do it?”

“Ew! What do you think? Of course she didn’t. That shit’s nasty.”

There’s a pause in which Vanessa lets out a few more giggles. Monique doesn’t. She’s silent. She’s thinking.

“I wonder what it’s like.”

Vanessa’s voice is loud in the silence of the night. “What? Touching a boy’s-”

“No, idiot!” Monique laughs, explaining herself. “Kissing someone. Wonder if it’s as nice as people say it is.”

Vanessa falls quiet as well. Monique wonders what she’s thinking. She decides to break the silence. “You ever kissed a boy?”

Vanessa lets out a snort. “Come on, M’nique, you know I ain’t.”

“No I don’t!” Monique protests, her voice dropping to a murmur as she feels herself pout while she speaks. “I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

They both fall silent, and there’s a shift in the atmosphere that Monique can’t quite put her finger on. Vanessa lets out a sudden giggle.

“What?” Monique asks awkwardly, unsure if she’s meant to be in on the joke or the butt of it.

Vanessa’s face is scheming. She laughs a little, buries her face in her pillow before she speaks. “You know we could practise?”

Monique is slow on the uptake at first. “Practise? Practise what?”

She realises as Vanessa lifts her head and gives another giggle. Monique lets out a screech, takes the pillow from underneath her head and thumps her friend with it. “Ew, Vanessa! Ew, ew, ew! You’re _so_ weird!”

“Oh, c’mon! I don’t wanna go kiss a boy and then be really bad at it, then he’s tell his friends and they’d tell their friends and then the whole school would think I’m shit!” Vanessa insists. Monique’s heart gives a very loud thud as Vanessa inches her face close to Monique. She’s not taken her makeup off and her mascara is all smudged around her eyes like makeshift eyeliner. She looks really pretty.

Monique shoves her away back onto the pillows. “I ain’t doin’ that shit with you! Ask Akeria since she’s so experienced.”

“But I don’t wanna practise with Kiki! I wanna practise with you!” Vanessa says matter-of-factly. Monique’s stomach gives another churn. Something is different, something has changed. Monique isn’t sure what it is or what to make of it.

“Well, tough shit. We ain’t…practising,” Monique huffs, turning her back to Vanessa and letting her eyes burn holes in the flimsy tent walls.

Vanessa’s voice comes from her side of the tent. “Fine! But if they call you…shit, I don’t know…Washing-Machine Mouth Monique…don’t say I never warned you!”

Monique lets out another huff, squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself to sleep. She feels weird. Her heart is going too fast and her stomach feels fizzy and it takes her a moment to realise her face has gone all hot.

“M’nique?” Vanessa’s voice comes from the darkness. She ignores it. “You mad at me?”

She sighs, rolls her eyes even though she knows Vanessa can’t see. “No.”

“Okay,” Vanessa says. Her voice is soft, and she rolls over onto her side. She rests her head against Monique’s back and puts an arm around her. They hug all the time, but this one feels different. It’s nice, though, and Monique feels warm and safe. “I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much. You know. Like we did in primary.”

“I’m sorry too,” Monique sighs, bringing a hand up to pat Vanessa on the arm. She ends up simply leaving it there.

“Hey, we should hang out more in the Summer! You know you can always come round to mine,” Vanessa continues.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Monique murmurs, letting out a heavy sigh. She’s not lying- it would be nice. She knows she could never have friends back to her flat because they don’t have the space and besides, most of them wouldn’t even want to set foot in the high rise anyway. Monét’s parents are doctors and Asia’s Dad is a barrister and her Mum is a lawyer, and Bob’s parents work in something accountant-y, and they all live in big houses with sweeping paved driveways and garages and gardens the size of the Emirates stadium. Granted Antonia’s Mum and Dad both work two jobs to pay the rent and Brianna’s Dad is a dustbin man while her Mum stays at home to look after her baby sister, but at least their families are happy ones. Monique has never known the luxury of a fancy house or a private garden or a car or a perfect, cookie-cutter family. She wonders if she ever will.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Vanessa giving her a gentle squeeze, cuddling closer. She didn’t think it would be possible but she somehow manages it, and Monique isn’t complaining. “G'night, M'nique.”

Monique is too tired to think any more. Vanessa’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, 'Ness.”

***

High school is high school, and nothing is ever simple. The idea that Vanessa had had about hanging out in Summer was soon pushed to the side. Monique was dropped in favour of hanging out with Akeria and Silky. In all fairness, Monique was too busy riding the carousel of shopping trips and sleepovers at her new friend’s houses. Monét’s house is her favourite though because it feels like a castle- it’s surrounded by a gate with a combination instead of a key and in the lobby there’s a sweeping marble staircase and an actual pillar and an expensive-looking sculpture in the corner. Monét’s parents are kind and caring and they supply the girls with endless snacks and fizzy juice and face masks. Monique imagines it’s like what staying at a hotel is like. She wouldn’t know, she’s never stayed anywhere other than her old house with her Mum, the high flats, or Vanessa’s house.

She feels guilty about not hanging out with Vanessa. They text, but it’s not quite the same; she knows Vanessa hates writing in any format so it’s a little harder. They could phone, but they just…don’t. Still, despite their distance that night at Vanessa’s in the tent still plays on Monique’s mind. The whole thing was weird. Vanessa had wanted to kiss her, and in Monique’s mind that was only something you wanted to do with a person if you had a crush on them. Monique knows what a lesbian is, and she’s sure Vanessa isn’t one. She’s damn sure she isn’t one either. Aside from liking girls, lesbians dress like boys and they have short hair and they’re definitely not as beautiful as Vanessa. They’re different, and Monique is different enough. She isn’t a lesbian. She doesn’t fill any of the criteria.

So when Vanessa comes back after the summer holidays and begins Year 9 with hair that stops at her jaw and an undercut as well as a set of pink traintrack braces, the whispers start right away. Monique hears two boys talking about her at first, as she’s putting her books from second period away in her locker. She hears brash laughter, Vanessa’s name, the words “dyke” and “rug muncher” and “lesbian” all spat out venomously, and Monique’s heart hurts. She wants to tell them to shut up, wants to tell them they’re wrong and that Vanessa is pretty and soft and none of those things. Vanessa is just a normal girl. Hell, the only reason she’d wanted to practise kissing with her was so that she could be good for boys.

It’s lunchtime when it gets brought up again, and by that point it’s all round the school. Brianna starts the conversation mid-chip, speculating between chews.

“Have you guys heard that rumour going around that Vanessa Mateo is a lesbian?” she almost whispers, and Monique rolls her eyes. Not this.

“Oh my God, no! Tell us!” Asia says excitedly, pushing away her plate of suspicious-looking penne bolognese made up of too-soft pasta and too-watery mince.

“What’s there to tell, sis? That’s all there is.”

“She’s in my Spanish class. She definitely _looks_ like a lesbian,” Antonia widens her eyes in disbelief, and Bob cackles a laugh.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Looks like a lesbian. They’re just girls who like girls, lesbian isn’t a fucking…skin tone.”

Brianna casts a glare at her from the other end of the table. “Oh, come _on_ , Bob, you know what we mean. She’s got that haircut and the shaved bit at the bottom. And have you ever seen her wear skirts to school?”

“Gee, short hair and trousers make you a lesbian. By that logic half the fucking boys are lesbians.”

The girls splutter a laugh, which Monique joins in with half-heartedly.

“It’s not just that, though. You know she’s friends with that Akeria Davenport…Silky Ganache. You ever see her with any boys? I wouldn’t be surprised, you know,” Monét shrugs, having seemingly thought it through enough to pass judgement. Asia laughs.

“You never see us hanging out with boys.”

“Yeah, but there’s six of us! There’s only three of them. Maybe they have like…threesomes,” Antonia gasps, her eyes sparkling wickedly. The girls all follow suit, gasping and widening their eyes and clucking like hens. Monique feels sick. The whole conversation feels wrong. She doesn’t want to be part of it any more.

As if she’s read her mind, Monét cocks her head at her. “Monique, didn’t you used to be friends with her? You ever get lesbian vibes from her?”

“Oh my God, yeah? She ever try and kiss you?” Brianna asks, open-mouthed. Monique feels the colour drain from her face. Luckily there’s a shout from the other end of the canteen that cuts the girls off from the conversation they’ve been having.

“Bob!”

The girls stop talking, turn around to see Tomi and Katie standing smiling in that fake as fuck way that Monique loathes. She knows they’re probably behind most of the rumours about Vanessa and that puts her back up even more. Bob seems unbothered, and she’s regarding them in a lazy sort of way. Monique swears she’s seen a lion watch a gazelle with the same expression.

“Yeah?” Bob asks simply, humouring them. The two girls giggle behind their hands.

“We just think your hair is _so_ gorgeous. Can we touch it?” Katie simpers, tucks her blonde hair behind her ears unflatteringly. Bob turns briefly to Asia and gives an earth-shattering roll of her eyes. Monique can feel Monét bristle beside her defensively and she puts a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

Bob smiles indulgently at the rejected extras from _White Chicks_ standing in front of her. “You can try, see what happens.”

Tomi has her hand out and then falters, clearly noticing Antonia glaring at her like she’s daring her. Monique’s never actually witnessed her throwing hands but she knows that’s how she got her detention last year, after a boy in the corridor made monkey noises at her. Tomi clearly decides against it and the two girls curl their top lip at them all instead, slinking away. Bob turns around to shout after them.

“Wait! Tomi! Can I touch your hair? I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be a weak, limp, lifeless, greasy Rapunzel!“

The girls erupt in hysterical laughter, and the rumour is forgotten for now.

Or at least it is until two o’clock in the afternoon. Monique’s not been thinking straight all day and it shows when she turns up to Chemistry when she’s meant to be in English, the lower sixth formers all looking at her as if she had two heads when she opened the door to the lab and had to slink back out again. So she’s running down the back stairwell panicking, knowing she’s going to have to explain why she’s late. The stairwell is empty with everyone already in class, but aside from the noise she’s making as she thunders down the stairs Monique can hear two other voices at the bottom. Two boys’ voices, and they don’t sound kind. They’re spitting out insults, and Monique heard the crash of something heavy against the floor- a book, a folder. It’s against Monique’s better judgement to investigate- she should really get a teacher- but she can’t stand bullies, so she gets to the last set of stairs and peers over the bannister to see what’s happening.

The sight makes her heart drop, because it’s Vanessa. The two boys are yelling at her, blocking her path every time she tries to move past them. She’s not crying but she’s all hunched in on herself, almost concave with her arms hugging herself and her head positioned towards the ground. The boys are relentless with their taunts and Monique can’t bear to hear any more.

"Hey!” she shouts, her voice all too loud in the silence of the stairwell. It echoes and ricochets off the walls, and the boys narrow their eyes as they look up at her. She meets Vanessa’s eyes. She seems just as shocked as the perpetrators. Monique’s started, so she follows it up with, “Leave her the fuck alone.”

The boys laugh, begin to mock Monique amongst themselves. She doesn’t want to play her ace, but as their words bury themselves deeper and deeper under her skin, Monique’s face turns into a snarl. “Or am I gonna have to call my brother?”

The boys seem to make the connection between who they’re talking to and the implication Monique has just made, and she’s happy when a glimpse of fear passes on their face. One of them has the bravery to speak up again. “Your brother won’t do shit, soon as he steps in our ends he’s dead.”

“Well, I can always call him and you can tell him that for real. Or, even better…” Monique shrugs, pulling her phone out of her blazer pocket and scrolling it lazily. “…I can have him here by lunchtime and you can say it to his face?”

The boys frown at her and seem to make the mutual decision to let the situation drop, but not before one of them spits on the floor at the bottom of the stairs Monique is standing on. She lets out a sigh. She knows her brother’s reputation precedes him and it’s not a pretty one. She knows he’s infamous and that the teachers were all happy when he finally left, saw the look on all their faces when they reached her name in the register on that first day and could practically hear what they were thinking. _Oh shit, that’s his sister_. She’s not proud of having used her brother as a threat but as she looks down and sees Vanessa’s kind, grateful smile, she knows it was worth it. Monique wants to hug her, wants to pat her back and tell her that she’s not in any danger anymore and that it’s all okay but she doesn’t because things aren’t the way they used to be. She descends the steps and lets Vanessa pick up her folder, waiting until she’s back up standing with her arms hugged around it and the tiny smile still on her face.

“Thanks.”

Monique wants to blush. She’s maybe already doing so. “It’s okay.”

There’s a pause. Vanessa’s smile wavers and she pulls her lips in on themselves, holds them between her teeth for a moment before letting them go. She looks to the ground awkwardly. Monique wants to say more, she wants to say everything, whatever the hell everything is. Instead she says nothing.

Vanessa rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. It’s just the two of them at the bottom of the stairwell now, and it looks like she’s about to release something she’s holding back. “Uh, hey. You ain’t tell anyone about…you know-”

“No, I didn’t,” Monique replies instantly, firmly. They both know what she means. Vanessa nods curtly. They’re standing alone, nobody else around to pass judgement or start a rumour or look at them funny. Monique wants to just…talk to her. She doesn’t open her mouth again, but she wants to. She can feel her speech rising in her throat, and she’s about to say something. She still doesn’t know what.

“I should get going, I’m late to English,” Vanessa suddenly makes the decision for her, nods at Monique in thanks again before turning on her heel and pushing open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

Monique is left standing there and the silence seems to echo around her.

She goes back home instead of class.

***

Year 10 starts and the unthinkable happens.

Vanessa’s sitting in P.E. at the time. She’s not at all academic- she knows this, it’s evident from all the extra help she gets and how she’s in the bottom set for everything- so she likes P.E. because she just plays sports, tries to win. All the girls and boys in the year have it at the same time and they split off- boys get taken out onto the astroturf in the pissing rain to kick a ball about for an hour and the girls stay inside and do basketball or volleyball, dainty ladies’ sports that make Vanessa mad because she knows she could whoop any boys’ ass at football. Anyway, Monique’s in her set and so are all her friends. Vanessa doesn’t like the girls she’s friends with- they’re too stuck-up for her taste, and she likes the fact that Silky and Akeria are down to earth and don’t have any airs or graces. But she still casts an eye over to Monique every so often, just to look at her. She thinks about the fact they used to be best friends, used to share everything with each other. Her cheeks burn when she thinks about the time she asked Monique if they wanted to kiss. She still hasn’t made herself confront that properly yet, still hasn’t addressed the very obvious elephant in the room of her brain. That can wait for another day, though. Everybody already says she’s a lesbian anyway, she’s been getting flack for it for a solid year now, so she supposes when (if) she comes out she can’t get bullied more than she already is.

Monique’s dark eyes are framed with eyeliner and mascara, and her perfect cheekbones are highlighted with a dust of gold. Vanessa’s jealous. She runs her hands over the spots that’ve bubbled up on her forehead self-consciously, reminding herself to spread more concealer over them when class is over. Monique’s so beautiful and it isn’t fair. Vanessa is so busy thinking and so lost in her own head that she doesn’t even notice their guidance teacher’s arrived at the door.

“Can I speak to Monique, please?”

Vanessa watches Monique’s eyes grow wide as her friends all wind her up and make ominous noises at her as she leaves. Vanessa wonders if Monique’s in trouble. She was always the biggest goody two-shoes in Primary, and she’d always get so nervous whenever Vanessa did something mischievous. Vanessa smiles at the memory but it’s quickly forgotten when their teacher tells them to get into partners and she immediately grabs Silky, leaving Akeria to pair with Mercedes, a shy girl who’s terrible at everything P.E. related and would truly be the booby prize if there was ever a partner-related game show. 

Vanessa forgets about Monique until lunchtime when she’s sitting with the girls in the cafeteria and scanning the hall judgmentally. Her eyes fall on the table Monique and her friends usually sit at, and they’re all eerily quiet. They sit with their heads in their hands, stare into their plates of food and pick at them, and nobody says a word. Monique isn’t there. Come to think of it, she didn’t return for P.E.

“Sheesh,” Vanessa scoffs, gesturing over to them. “Who died?”

It’s a joke she’ll regret making, because all over Monique’s facebook wall that night when she gets home from school is post after post after post of sympathies and apologies and heart emojis and kisses.

Because Monique’s Gran has died.

When Vanessa realises she pushes her phone away, turns over in bed and brings her knees up to her chest. Her head is spinning. All Monique has is her Gran- well, her and her brother, but she’s known so much pain and heartache in her life and all she has ever wanted is a happy family. Vanessa knows this. She wonders what will happen to her. Her brother must be around 19 now, so he could get granted guardianship but God knows he’s never been the most ideal role model. He loves Monique though, deeply cherishes his sister. Everything Monique’s been through, so has he. Maybe Monique will be put in foster care? Vanessa doesn’t know. Everything about the situation makes her feel sick to her stomach. Apart from all of that Monique has to deal with the grief of losing the woman who raised her, who was a mother and father rolled into one. 

Vanessa makes a decision, turns over in bed and snatches her phone back up. Her stomach is churning as she types out what she wants to say. Everything feels wrong and absolutely zero consolation, but she sends it anyway. She has to send _something._

_V: hey_

_V: i’m so sorry to hear about your Gran_

_V: i hope your doing okay_

Vanessa stares at her phone for the full five minutes until it vibrates again, lights up with a message from Monique.

_M: Thanks_

Vanessa’s previously-rising heart suddenly drops. The reply is disappointing, but she doesn’t know what she expected. Monique has lost the closest thing to a parent she’s ever had. It’s not exactly the right time for a cosy reunion. Still, Vanessa misses her. She knows she could help Monique feel better, she was always able to make her laugh when she was sad.

_V: i’m always here if you need someone to talk to_

_V: i know we don’t talk as much as we used to but your still my friend_

Vanessa stares at her phone until her retinas start to burn. Is she even Monique’s friend any more? She wonders what they would talk about if they got to talk again, wonders if they ever had anything in common at all. The thought isn’t a nice one, and Vanessa goes to sleep that night with tears stinging her eyes and a terrible dull ache in her heart.

***

Monique doesn’t remember Year 10.

That sounds silly, as day 1 of it was only 365 days ago, but she doesn’t. She’s blocked it all out, bad memories of grief and pain that she’d rather forget. Even though her life has been full of struggles, the last year has truly taken the biscuit and she doesn’t ever want to think about it again.

There are always silver linings, though, no matter how awful the situation is. Monique’s brother is granted parental responsibility and he makes the effort to turn their lives around in whatever ways he can. They apply for a new council house, one in a slightly nicer area, and it has a garden and a number on the door and lots of windows to let in light. It’s the nicest place Monique has ever lived, and the summer before Year 11 the pair of them decorate it with furniture they find at the recycling centre and fix at home, and free stuff they pick up from Facebook Marketplace, and they paint the walls bright colours to keep their spirits up. Money is still a problem, though, but Monique is thrifty. She’s timed when the supermarkets put their yellow reduced labels on food, she can make her one free school sandwich last for lunch and dinner if she needs to. She charges her phone in class so she doesn’t have to use the electricity at home and she knows that if you put rocks in the pockets of the clothes you donate to Cash4Clothes then you get more money for them. They’re getting by- not easily, but they’re surviving.

Monique’s friends look after her, making sure she’s okay on those days when school is just beyond her and the only thing she can do is lie in bed. On the days she does manage into school the girls flank her, surround her like a shield against the staring eyes and whispers of the other kids. She still hears the odd murmurs of “her gran died” and “she doesn’t have any parents” and “her brother looks after her”. She knows they’re not malicious, but they still sting. So she’s glad when it gets to around October and people stop whispering about her and go back to whispering about Vanessa instead.

Because she’s got a girlfriend.

Brooke Lynn’s in lower sixth. God knows how she met Vanessa- probably at a house party or drinking in the park at some point, Monique supposes. She’s tall and statuesque and everyone is afraid of her, partly as a result of her resting bitch face and partly as a result of her intimidating good looks. Brooke is a living Barbie doll- pale skin, blonde hair, long lashes, full pink lips. Everything Monique’s not.

She’s sickeningly PDA with Vanessa. Monique sees them together at lunchtimes; the pair of them holding hands or with their arms around each other as they sit with their two friendship groups merged together- Monique didn’t think Silky and Akeria would have anything in common with straight A students Nina and Scarlet but she supposes that Scarlet’s girlfriend Yvie’s been put in isolation a similar amount of times to Silky so they’ve at least got that to bond over if nothing else. They laugh uproariously and chatter loudly and Brooke Lynn and Yvie eye girls like Tomi and Katie with suspicion and dislike, the two girls not even daring to make a comment about the two same-sex relationships at the table.

Monique hates Brooke Lynn. She doesn’t know why. She’s weird because she’s a lesbian but she doesn’t even fit in with what a lesbian should be with her long, blonde hair, makeup, short skirts. But then again, Monique reminds herself, neither does Vanessa really. They both just look like…normal girls. She wonders how that can be. Vanessa looks so happy all the time even though most of their year group hates her, or at least makes snide comments about her behind her back. How the hell is she so damn cheerful? Maybe Monique is just jealous. Jealous of the way Vanessa has an accepting group of friends and an accepting Mum and is comfortable being out even in school, unlike Monique who has to banish those thoughts to the dark of her mind because of course she’s not gay; she joins in with her friends when they talk about cute boys and talks about the celebrities she has a crush on. But she doesn’t really _mean_ any of it. When she looks at the boys her friends all drool over, she just feels…nothing. She’s wondered to herself about her own feelings, even got as far as typing “girls kissing” into Youtube but closed the app before she could click on a single video, too embarrassed to go any further.

Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s fine, and her Gran always told her that God didn’t make mistakes. So she pushes and pushes the feelings down as Autumn turns to Winter and Spring turns to Summer, and before she knows it she’s finished her exams and is starting Sixth Form. Her brother’s proud of her- he hadn’t stayed in school that long, of course- and her Gran would be proud too. Monique’s sure her Mum would be as well, wherever she is. And her Dad. Whoever he is. Her exam results are decent, and she takes solace in the belief that maybe she’s clever, maybe she can forge a different path for her and her brother than the one she was born into. She’d like to be a nurse- nurses help people, and her Gran was looked after by one before she passed, so she decides that Sixth Form is going to be spent getting the grades she needs to get to university. Imagine. Her at uni. The first in her family and maybe even the first in her neighbourhood.

Still, it’s Sixth Form and she can at least have a little fun. She’s invited to her first house party along with the girls- Connor from Upper Sixth is hosting because his parents are out of town and Bob’s managed to blag them all an invite, so they get ready together and get Antonia’s cousin Shea to get them all alcohol from the off license, the six of them all giggling as they drink bottles of Lambrini in the street on the walk over to the party. When they arrive the house is packed, the music is loud, and everything is dark inside. Everyone already seems to be drunk and Monique finds herself guzzling the cider almost sickeningly quickly as she attempts to play catch-up. She’s surprised that some of the boys start talking to her and her friends. She’s never really received male attention before. She’s still not even kissed anyone; nothing’s changed since she was thirteen years old. Connor is showering her with attention and he’s maybe even flirting and all Monique’s friends say he’s attractive and Monique’s hoping she’ll feel something for him over the course of the conversation she’s having with him in the kitchen, her head all light and the alcohol coating her mouth. Eventually she sees that he’s moving to kiss her and she’s going to say no, turn him down gently but-

Vanessa’s here. She’s in the hallway looking at her, and Monique feels her eyes almost burn a hole in her heart. Her and Brooke broke up in the Summer- it was messy and all over Facebook, and Vanessa took it badly. There’s something to her gaze that Monique doesn’t recognise and she’s not sure she wants to. All she knows is the way she’s looking at her makes Monique focus her attentions on the boy in front of her, pulls him in for a kiss that’s sloppy and way too much and Monique feels nothing, beyond fucking empty inside, but the rush she gets when she opens her eyes mid-kiss to find Vanessa still looking at her is inexplicably exhilarating.

Except when she goes to bed that night she lies on her back and cries silently until she feels the tears stream into her ears. Why couldn’t she feel something for Connor? Why can’t she feel anything for any boy? Why can’t she shake this nagging feeling that something about her isn’t right, made differently to everyone else? She wishes she had Vanessa to talk to. She would know what to say. She’s been through all this already, Monique supposes. But Monique doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to be happy like Vanessa is, she wants to fit in, she wants to keep her head down and not attract any attention and just be fucking normal, normal, normal.

Monique goes to sleep with a damp face and a stuffy nose and a feeling of self-loathing she can’t shake.

This feeling isn’t helped by what she finds when she wakes up on Monday morning. She’s checking all her socials as she’s walking to meet Monét and she’s got three new CuriousCats. The first reads,

_Opinions on Asia O’Hara hehehehe_

Monique laughs at Asia’s obvious fishing for compliments. She types,

_the best friend EVERR and so pretty, ilysm!!!!!_

The second one makes her stomach flip over.

_did u get with Connor Monaghan on Saturday lmao_

She thinks about it before typing and sending her response.

_yea lol_

She scrolls to the next one and her heart stands still.

_Do you like girls_

Monique is aware she’s stopped walking; she’s standing in the street like an idiot with every muscle and bone frozen in her body as her eyes dart across the screen again and again, reading it over and over. Why did somebody even send her this? Are there rumours going around about her too?

Quickly, she types out an _ew no_ and publishes it. That should be the end of it. That’s it. She’s said she’s not, and that’s that. But there’s a concrete mixer of emotions and thoughts that swirl around in her mind and in turn churn up her stomach. She thinks about her kiss with Connor at the party, how she’d watched Vanessa instead of closing her eyes. The look on her face when they’d made eye contact. The way Monique feels as if something inside her is broken and can’t be fixed despite the fact she’s so normal on the outside contrasting with the way Vanessa is living happy and carefree despite constantly being made fun of and getting weird looks.

God, why does she even keep thinking about Vanessa all the time? They’ve not had a proper conversation in years, but Monique still remembers the way she’d texted her when her Gran died, the way she cared, the way she still called her her friend. Monique wonders if she’d still say the same thing. After all, she’s never said a bad word about Vanessa, never bitched about her or laughed about her behind her back.

Vanessa had said she still cared about her. Monique still cares about her too.

Monique is so in her own head that she doesn’t notice Monét standing waiting on her at the corner of the street until she almost walks past her. Monét grabs her arm to stop her and Monique very nearly swings for her until she realises who she is.

“Hey, bitch, slow down! It’s just me,” she laughs, and Monique gives a nervous laugh, still rattled by the anonymous question. “God, your head’s buried in that thing.”

“You sound like my Gran. Hey, Gran, I’m cold! _Cause you always on that damn phone,_ ” Monique impersonates, making Monét laugh. It coaxes a smile out of Monique too to remember how funny her Gran could be.

“What’re you lookin’ at anyway?”

Monique frowns, tells Monét about the message she got. Monét rolls her eyes and shakes her head in response.

“God, it’ll be fuckin’ Katie or Tomi pissing about and starting rumours. Just ignore them. Everyone knows you’re not gay anyway after Saturday night,” she waggles her eyebrows and tries to make a joke, but Monique’s still worried about the start of her sentence.

“But I don’t wanna be a rumour! I don’t want people talking about me!” she clamours, feeling ever-so-slightly helpless. Scratch that, hugely helpless. Monét pokes her in the arm just as school comes into view.

“Hey, Mo, chill! Nobody is gonna talk about you, everyone knows it’s a crock of shit! Just relax, alright? Ignore it, don’t let it ruin your day.”

That’s easier said than done, though. Monique’s mind is a mess and she can’t tell what’s real and what she’s making up. She walks past Tomi and Katie on her way to her locker and she thinks she hears them say her name but when she looks back at them they’re totally disinterested. In English, she’s sure everyone is staring at her when she walks into class. At breaktime she’s convinced the whole school knows. So when it gets to Biology and she’s sure, she’s _positive_ , that she hears her name being whispered by someone in the row behind her followed by the word _gay_ she thinks she’s going to be sick. The whole school knows, everyone is talking about it. Monique feels her chest tight, her mouth completely dry. She tries to take a deep breath but it feels as if she physically can’t do it. She doesn’t know how, but she manages to ask out of class and the moment she’s allowed she runs out of the door, hurtles down the stairs and into the girls’ bathroom, hyperventilating and clinging to one of the white porcelain sinks so hard she feels as if her knuckles are going to break. Her breathing makes her feel as if she’s a chew toy that someone is squeezing and squeezing over and over again, coming too quick and too shallow but she can’t stop; she’s stuck in the worst kind of cycle and she doesn’t know how to break it. She’s aware of the door creaking open, somebody saying her name in surprise but Monique can’t tear her gaze away from the crack beside the plughole to even see who it is. She feels the person take her hand off of the sink, squeeze it gently, and this forces her to look around and see who it is.

And of course it’s the one person who she doesn’t want to see right now.

Vanessa’s dark eyes are full of concern and care, and there’s furrows in her brow around the cracks and blemishes on her skin. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth which are caged in by her pink traintracks, even though Monique knows they’d be beautiful and straight if she got them off.

Vanessa’s gaze is trained on Monique’s shaking hand now, and she’s holding it open with Monique’s palm outstretched towards her. It’s weird that Monique feels so exposed by that action alone. Vanessa’s got one of the fingers of her other hand positioned beside her thumb, a raggedy painted red nail standing out bright against her skin. “Focus on my finger. You’re gonna breathe in when it’s goin’ up one of your fingers and you’re gonna breathe out when it’s goin’ down.”

In the absence of anyone else to lean on, or indeed any rational thought, Monique simply obeys. Vanessa traces around her hand with her finger, slowly and gently, and it allows Monique time to calm down and breathe. Vanessa’s touch is grounding and soothing and eventually, when it’s clear Monique has calmed down, she watches as Vanessa wordlessly laces their fingers together, strokes her palm with her thumb. Monique’s heart is ricocheting off her ribcage, but not in the same way it was before. Now it’s as if her heart feels too big, like she’s been left out in the sun to melt, and Monique finally gets it.

_This is how the other girls feel about boys._

“You okay now?” Vanessa asks her quietly, her voice hesitant and quiet and gentle and so out of character. Monique listens to the silence of the room. There’s nobody else there, nobody hiding in any cubicles. There’s only the drip of the tap and the hum of the air conditioner and Vanessa’s kind eyes and her long eyelashes.

If everything is as simple as an empty room and a silence like purgatory and a beautiful girl’s eyes, then maybe kissing Vanessa can be as simple as all that too.

So Monique does. She leans forward, closes her eyes before their lips meet softly, and neither of them do anything for a moment until Vanessa sort of pushes her lips against Monique’s own so then Monique pushes back with hers and then they’re kissing each other, Monique’s lip balm against Vanessa’s sticky gloss. They’ve still got their hands entwined and even though they’ve been so distant for the past few years she still ends up feeling so close to her because Monique _knows_ Vanessa, but even though she’s got Vanessa’s soft lips on hers and her fingers curled around her own the magic starts to dissolve away and Monique remembers where they both are, who they both are, and how serious and completely not simple any of this is at all.

She pulls away, frantic and panicked, ripping her hand out of Vanessa’s like she’s touching fire. Her heart is going too fast again but it’s not a nice feeling like before; she knows she’s been away from class for too long, knows she needs to get back. She doesn’t want to look at Vanessa as she leaves, doesn’t want to be reminded of the last five minutes, doesn’t want to be reminded of what she is, of who she is. Vanessa takes her by the elbow gently, tries to turn her around.

“M’nique, hey-”

Everything collides together in Monique’s already crowded mind and the result is a crash of Big Bang-style proportions, one that makes her shove Vanessa away with both hands on her shoulders. Monique regrets it instantly, knows she’ll have to deal with the shock and hurt and betrayal on Vanessa’s face etched into her mind for as long as she’ll be able to remember it.

“Go away, Vanessa!” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut and curling her hand around the doorhandle. “Just stay the hell away from me!”

“Hey, _you_ were the one that kissed _me_!” Vanessa bites back, her fists clenched by her sides in anger. If Monique looks at Vanessa long enough she can see tears beginning to form in her eyes but she’s trying her hardest to look at the floor, to not keep eye contact for long.

“No. I’m not like you, I’m not a fuckin’ weirdo, I don’t kiss girls, I’m not a dy…” Monique starts off insistent and strong but she has to hear herself tail off as she falters, the word she was about to say feeling barbed and sharp in her mouth, not right, a razor blade held on her tongue that she wants to spit out but now has to swallow.

Vanessa’s face has twisted in hurt and it’s impossible to ignore the tears trailing down her face. “You’re not a what, bitch? A dyke? Fucking say it, it don’t hurt me any more. Can’t hurt me any more than what you just did.”

Monique stands frozen and silent. She’s not sure what to say or do. Vanessa walks towards her and Monique flinches back against the wall as Vanessa reaches for the door. She gives Monique one last withering look up and down, the hurt in her eyes betraying the anger in her body.

“I really hoped that one day…you know what, forget it.”

Monique tries to forget it. But, almost as if it’s trying to make up for the fact she lost all of Year 10, her mind replays and replays the whole situation every day, until it’s the last day before the holidays and she knows she won’t have to see Vanessa around school for another six weeks, won’t have to face up to what she’s put in a double-locked safe in the back of her mind with a combination she’s so dangerously close to remembering.

***

Vanessa can’t quite believe she’s halfway through her final year at school.

In fact it’s a miracle she’s still even _going_ to school. She’s got three GCSEs to her name (five No Awards, one D, a C in English which she has no idea how she managed and a C* in Maths, her proudest achievement to date). She’s been working away at an A-Level in Health and Social Care over both of her two years at Sixth Form now, and re-sitting the GCSEs she’s failed. Vanessa has no interest in either health nor social care, but it’s allegedly the easiest A-Level there is so she’s signed up for it regardless. What she’s really going to do after school ends is go to college, get her HNC and HND in beauty therapy with Silky while Akeria studies business management and then they’re going to open a beauty salon together, ’ _Dreamgirls Beauty_ ’. It’s a plan they’ve had since Year 11, and it’s amused Vanessa to see Akeria and Silky begrudgingly calm down, to stop wreaking havoc around school and actually have to study and work hard so the three of them can achieve their dreams.

She’s actually enjoying her last year of school too. She knows part of the reason she’s stopped getting so much hassle from the others in her year group is because of her transformation after Summer. Her Mama finally saved up enough for flights back to Puerto Rico so they’d spent the Summer there with her family and Vanessa returned full of happiness, love, and fried plantains. All the home cooking and enormous meals have filled her out a bit and she doesn’t know exactly when she’d developed curves but she’s not exactly complaining about them. The sunshine has done wonders for her hair and skin too, the latter becoming clearer and darker and the former becoming longer and shinier. Adding to all this that she got her braces off and learned how to properly do makeup by averaging one NikkieTutorials video a day and she’s suddenly not just some small, spotty girl who fades into the background anymore. She’s confident, she loves herself, she’s genuinely happy.

And that’s more than can be said for Monique.

Vanessa doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Monique Heart, doesn’t give the girl a second thought. Certainly doesn’t think about the kiss they shared last year in the bathrooms which was so very obviously such a huge mistake. Doesn’t think about her long locks of hair she got dyed bright fiery orange over the Summer which compliments her eyes so well, doesn’t think about her huge bright smile and screech of a laugh that gets flashed at her friends whenever they say something hilarious. Doesn’t think about her lips even though she knows what they feel like, doesn’t think about how perfect it felt to kiss her after hiding a crush for so many years.

All of this is a lie of course.

Monique seems happy, any outsider would say that, but Vanessa knows different. If Vanessa looks at her long enough she can see the way her shoulders slump when she doesn’t have her friends around her and she’s left alone with her thoughts. She can see the small frown that appears on her face, lost in her own head and drowning in overthinking. She can see the way her smile falters after she laughs before it drops off her face completely. Sometimes Monique meets her gaze and gives Vanessa a look that communicates words in a language she cannot understand.

Still, Monique is hiding a secret that Vanessa already knows even without being told.

Vanessa had always naively and childishly imagined that she and Monique might get together one day. She’d almost confessed that to Monique that day when they’d kissed, before she decided to hang onto the last shred of her dignity. She’d loved Brooke so deeply but she knew that heartbreaks were a rite of passage, a part of life that some people had to bear the burden of. She’d always thought that if she and Brooke weren’t meant to be then her and Monique surely were (and how ridiculous a thought is that, given the fact they barely speak?).

But Vanessa likes to think she still knows Monique. Her biggest fear is needles, her favourite food is anything cooked on a barbecue. She’s always loved girlbands and near the end of their friendship Monique had told Vanessa her Gran had got her into trouble because she’d made twenty-five phone calls in one night to vote for Little Mix in the X Factor final, so Vanessa can safely assume she still listens to them and probably Fifth Harmony as well. She knows that Monique is caring and kind, even despite that day in the girls’ bathrooms. Still, though…Vanessa doesn’t know. A person can change and grow so much over a few short years, and Monique’s been through a lot.

It’s dark and cold outside but Vanessa is warm in bed as she scrolls her phone, absent-mindedly returns to her messages with Monique like she’s done many times since the day she kissed her- Vanessa always reminds herself that no matter what Monique had said, it was her that kissed Vanessa, not the other way round. She re-reads her words over and over like the prayers she chants at Mass on Sundays:

_M: Vanessa I’m so sorry_

_M: I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m just going through so much right now_

_M: I’m trying to figure myself out but it’s so hard_

_M: I really miss you_

She hadn’t replied to any of them, a fact she deeply deeply regrets because perhaps if she had then they could’ve been something, she could’ve helped Monique with whatever feelings she’d been dealing with, is maybe still dealing with. But it’s been months and months and months now, and Vanessa feels the moment has passed.

That is, until she gets a message on CuriousCat.

_Opinions on Monique Heart_

When she sees it, Vanessa’s breathing catches in her throat. She feels as if Monique’s eyes are on her and watching her, because really, who else would’ve sent that ask in? Okay, it could’ve been one of her friends trying to stir shit up, but Vanessa knows how it works on CuriousCat and usually the anons are quite easy to work out (which is why she’s still so amazed that Monique never seemed to know it was her that had asked her if she liked girls). Her fingers hover over the screen as she tries to figure out what to type. Unlike the other girls in her year, Vanessa doesn’t bullshit over CuriousCat- if she’s asked an opinion on somebody she calls a spade a spade, and she’ll never forget the hassle she got when somebody asked her her opinion on Tomi and Vanessa had outright labelled her a racist cunt. She wants to say that she’s gorgeous and beautiful, and that she misses being her friend, and that she’s been crushing on her for a while but never had the courage to speak to her because they both move in different circles now and nothing could ever happen.

But obviously, she doesn’t.

Instead she thinks up a white lie, tries to tell the truth without telling the truth, and instead replies:

_dont want to say something ill regret_

She yells goodnight to her Mama and switches off the lamp beside her bed, turns over and pulls the covers up to her chin. Just as she’s drifting off, a repetitive sound drifts into her consciousness. It sounds like hailstones that are falling from the sky just one at a time. She can hear somebody shouting in the street- probably just somebody drunk stumbling through the estate, it happens a lot- until she makes out who the voice belongs to. Opening her eyes, she sees tiny pebble after tiny pebble hitting her window, and all at once she’s shooting out of bed to look out of it.

The yellow glow of the streetlamp is a spotlight and Monique is taking centre stage on the pavement outside Vanessa’s house. She’s dressed in a huge black hoodie which is paired with blue tartan pyjama bottoms and she’s wearing her black Nike trainers, the same ones she wears to school with the scuffs and the holes and the laces that look like a dog has chewed on them. She’s hurling pebbles and her face is twisted into an upset and mournful frown. Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s crying until she hears her yell again, hears the crack in her voice and her words thick with emotion.

“Open the fuckin’ window, Vanessa!” 

Vanessa does as she’s told, feels her own face scrunch up into a frown. She hisses down to Monique. “Stop fuckin’ yelling, my Mama’s asleep!”

Monique looks up at her, face illuminated in the artificial light. Vanessa sees the tears streaming down her face and her heart feels as if it’s breaking. She grabs her dressing gown and shoves her feet into her slippers, tiptoes as quickly as she can down the stairs and out into the street. She shoves one of her school shoes that’s beside the door into the doorframe so it won’t slam closed behind her, and then she feels the cold night air envelop her as she steps outside. There’s already frost forming on the ground, a tiny layer of wet cold over everything. It’s so dark that the only thing she can properly see is Monique as she walks up to her iron fence, absent-mindedly sticks her feet through the bars and curls her fingers around the rust.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Monique’s face is angry as she addresses her. “What’s the something you’ll regret? Huh? What’s so bad that you can’t fuckin’ say it? You’ve always got something to say, you’re always calling people out. So what the fuck is it?”

Vanessa’s back is instantly put up. “An’ what if I don’t tell you, you gonna throw names at me again? You gonna kiss me then pretend like I kissed you? Nah you won’t, because that would mean havin’ to address your problems an’ act your fuckin’ age for a change instead of caring so much about what other people think of you that you won’t let yourself be who you are!”

Monique is staring at her wide-eyed and Vanessa thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d just slapped her across the face. She is thinking rapidly about what she could say to save the situation and her heart drops like a rollercoaster when Monique gives a sob.

“I’m so fuckin’ scared, ‘Ness,” she says through a shudder of a breath, and Vanessa wants to reach out to her but she’s frozen onto the fence, an ice sculpture in the freezing air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and…you’re so happy, and you’re different, and I just…I don’t want to be talked about, I don’t want any of the whispers or the mean words or anybody judging me but I’m so fucking…sad and empty and the last time I remember feeling really, properly alive again was when I kissed you that day and…fuck-”

Monique dissolves into sobs which she muffles with hands wrapped in hoodie sleeves. Vanessa has been through all of this already. She has been through the denial, the Catholic guilt, the repression, letting the thoughts drip, drip, drip into her consciousness then locking them away and ignoring them but the thing about a drip is that there’s always the threat of the dam breaking and when it does, a tsunami of repressed feelings creates a flood and the tears are streaming uncontrollably from Monique’s eyes. Vanessa thaws, reaches forward to take one of Monique’s hands away from her face, and when their eyes meet she can see a speck of hope in Monique’s gaze like Vanessa has a life belt and a raft. 

“M’nique,” she says softly, and the girl’s sobs quieten. “Sometimes you just need to ignore the thoughts that make up the what-ifs. You need to stop imagining fiction and just focus on the facts. At some point…you need to allow yourself to be happy.”

Monique snuffles. “But what if I try that and I’m still not?”

“What if you try and you _are_? Monique,” Vanessa sighs in exasperation, trying to word it better but being unable to find anything more.

And then the thought strikes her.

Actions speak louder than words so she leans over the gate and pulls Monique close. This time there’s no lipgloss, no chapstick and no overthinking; there’s her lips on Monique’s, and she’s been here before so she kisses her just like she kissed back last time but now she’s less hesitant and nervous. She’s sure. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. Monique is kissing her back and their hands are entwined just as they’d been the first time. Everything is the same, and yet at once all so different.

When she pulls away (because the fence is digging into her stomach and it’s making her a little too breathless), Monique doesn’t let go of her hand. There’s a hint of a smile on her face, one that makes Vanessa feel as if they’re both going to be okay.

“I never thought we’d get here,” Vanessa laughs a little. She’s emotional, and if she doesn’t check herself then she’s going to start crying but the tears are out before she knows it along with her words. “I know that we ain’t properly spoken in years. But I also know that I love you. I care about you so fuckin’ much, M’nique, I never stopped carin’.”

The pair of them are crying now, and Monique pulls Vanessa in to kiss her again. Vanessa feels her murmur it back against her lips- _I love you, I love you so much. I missed you._

It’s still dark, and the streetlamp is still the only light outside Vanessa’s house, but everything seems a little brighter.

“It ain’t safe to walk back to your ends now. C’mon.”

Vanessa takes her friend’s hand, leads her back inside where it’s warm and safe. Her bed is tiny and there’s only really room for one person but they make it work, Monique pressed against the wall and curled up with her arms around Vanessa, Vanessa with her head resting against Monique’s chest and her arm slung protectively over her. She feels Monique give her a little squeeze, press a kiss to the top of her head.

Monique gives the relieved and heavy sigh of someone who’s been rescued from deep water. She wriggles a little in bed to get comfortable and, seemingly satisfied, she whispers into the dark. “G’night, Vanessa.”

Monique’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, M’nique.”


End file.
